


Womanizer

by starhoneyy



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Betrayal, Bottom Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun, Elitist Jaehyun, Enemies to Lovers Undertones, Hand Jobs, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun is Whipped, Kidnapping, Kissing, Lee Taeyong-centric, Light Bondage, Lots of plot, M/M, Mild Body Worship, Neck Kissing, Porn With Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Exchange, Sexual Tension, Song: Womanizer (Britney Spears), Spy Taeyong, Teasing, Top Lee Taeyong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29964045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhoneyy/pseuds/starhoneyy
Summary: Arrogant. Wealthy. Powerful. All attributes that make Jung Jaehyun an easy target. Taeyong’s opportunistic — he sees his chance andtakes it.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 22
Kudos: 105





	Womanizer

**Author's Note:**

> it’s britney, bitch.
> 
> enjoy!

Taeyong takes calculated steps into the gala hall with head held high and his expression schooled into something a little more passive. Although he's come in without someone wrapped around his arm, he walks in like he owns the place — like he rightfully deserves to be there. It's easy to blend in when he looks the part, and he's worn this look so many times that everything else that comes with it feels like second nature.

He's dressed in luxury and doused in wealth, and Yuta had tailored his _costume_ well so that the suit fit him perfectly. But it isn't his mere outfit that had gotten him past the hotel guards, and he isn't foolish enough to think so, either. He knows why Johnny chose him for this mission. It's because of his _looks._

But even with his standout features, Taeyong had always had a way of making himself look invisible, and he traipses through the gold and glittering hall with practiced ease, blending into the shadows as if he was nothing more than a finely dressed waiter. His eyes glide across the hall, and a part of him feels as if he's missing something — he feels as if he should be taken aback from the excessive show of wealth, but he's become desensitised to it after coming so far in his career. He's at his peak, and he's only one mission away from moving up, so he knows tonight isn’t one for mistakes.

He wraps the threaded ropes of his beating heart around the muscle to cage it and keep it down. It's something he's learned to do after his first mission — one that had ended in disaster from not being able to keep his nerves down and jittery hands at bay. And now, nothing can phase him. He acts surprised when he needs to act surprised. He acts awed he needed to act awed.

And right now, he needs to _act._

Taeyong makes his way over to the bar and slides into a seat after a drink. He's aware that he can't stay long. Ten told him so. It looks too suspicious if he stays at the same spot for more than a couple minutes, but first he needs to find the target of the night. The process is always the same; to lure, to trap, and to reel them in. He smiles at the waiter when given his glass of champagne, looking up at him through shy, lidded eyes and tucking a strand of hair behind his ears when he thanks him. It goes unnoticed — the way Taeyong's thumb brushes over the small, black piece of metal in his ear. Taeyong turns away from the waiter and tilts the glass to his lips.

"Target?" he asks, voice low as he takes a sip. Armand de Brignac. Whoever's in charge of the drinks for the night has expensive taste, he thinks. Too bad it's expensive and _bland._

"Four o'clock," Ten orders, words coming in crystal clear through Taeyong's earpiece.

The new equipment is worth it, Taeyong notes, even if he had to beg the big boss on his knees to let them splurge. At Ten's words, Taeyong's eyes flit over to the direction given, and he scans the area as if looking through a catalogue. But he knows the item he's looking for before he even sets eyes on him. The description of the man given to him was imprinted in bold, black letters in his mind; Tall. Broad. Slender. Dark hair and dimpled smile. An adonis risen from the pits of hell with the attributes of a man able to make both men and women fall at his very feet.

His eyes zero in on his target. Jung Jaehyun is as beautifully described, and tonight Taeyong will be using Jaehyun's playboy ways to his advantage. It's a shame, he thinks, a real waste that such looks often go to waste. But maybe, coming from him, that just makes him a godawful hypocrite.

There's a trick to what he does, and it's one that doesn't have him lift a finger. The key is in the eyes — the intensity of them, how inviting they are, and just how weak he can make himself seem to men in power. It's a game to them, like hunting deer. A predator to prey relationship in which they're the fox and he plays the role as the jack rabbit. Men like that are always hungry for the same thing. They get drunk off the power trips given to them by unsuspecting victims, and sometimes they even enjoy the chase. So when Taeyong locks eyes with Jaehyun across the hall, he widens them — makes them large, round, and doe — before he flits them back to his drink in a faux act of innocence.

And then, he waits.

There's a countdown in his mind, like a ticking time bomb, and he starts it off from three minutes. Jaehyun's seen him, and men like Jaehyun are always the easiest. He glides his thumb over the ridge of his glass as he counts down sixty second rotations in his mind, chest tightening with the thrill he gets from setting the trap. It's electric, and it makes his skin tingle with a sort of prickling heat when he finally reaches the final rotation and begins to countdown until he reaches ten. He's a little off this time, however, because Jung Jaehyun falls into his trap twenty seconds early.

A hand holds itself out in front of him, and Taeyong's head shoots up as if he's surprised. He wants to smile, but he suppresses it. It feels too easy — a little like taking taxes from the poor, he thinks as Jaehyun stares down at him. Or candy from kids.

"Jung Jaehyun," he introduces himself as Taeyong slips his hand into his.

Jaehyun's hands are soft, like Taeyong's are maintained to be, but it's the lack of hard labour that keeps Jaehyun's hands that way. His voice is smooth, too, and rough around the edges. And there's a heat to it when he speaks. like bourbon. Taeyong sees the appeal. He understands the reason why it makes men and women alike tremble at the knees. If Taeyong didn't have some semblance of self control, he might've been caught off guard too.

A comment drifts in from Ten to keep his focus, and that's when Taeyong pulls his hands away. He makes as much of a show of checking Jaehyun out as Jaehyun does to him, eyes raking from the chiseled lines of his jaw to the polished shoes on his feet. Taeyong's lips curl upwards into a hidden smile as he meets Jaehyun's eyes again. His gaze is smoky, a dark abyss pulling him in, but Taeyong blinks to clear through the haze. It's clear what Jaehyun's intentions are, and Taeyong knows he's been subtle enough to show his too.

"Lee Taeyong," he responds.

There's no hesitation when it comes to giving out his real name because there wouldn't be a trace of him Jaehyun will be able to find at the end of the night. Lee Taeyong simply doesn't _exist._ And when Jaehyun's smile shows the ghost of dimples, Taeyong fleetingly wonders if he should take it further than he'd originally intended. Tonight, he's feeling destructive. And when Jaehyun takes the time to repeat his name, Taeyong finds that it must be deliberate. His voice has the texture of gravel, but the words fall from his lips like melted butter. Jaehyun stops to swipe his tongue over white teeth. And then, he smiles.

"I haven't seen you at one of these before," Jaehyun says, arching a brow. He signals for a drink briskly with his hand, not taking his eyes off Taeyong's figure all the while. Taeyong lolls his head to the side, letting his neck relax, and he watches as Jaehyun's eyes sweep over the exposed skin. "I think I'd remember if you had, no?"

Taeyong dares to smile. "Perhaps you just haven't been paying enough attention to your surroundings, Mr Jung."

Jaehyun's handed his drink, but he doesn't take a sip. It sits, rolling between his thumb and index figure. It's simply for show.

"My apologies if that's so. I tend to have what they call..." He pauses, taking a step forward and smiling sharply, canines razor sharp. He's in front of him, but it's as if he's everywhere. Jaehyun's presence is all consuming, and the look in his eyes reflects his desire to devour him. Taeyong mirrors it. "Tunnel vision," he finishes.

Taeyong heart almost skips a beat, though nothing but the twitch in his lips shows that he's affected. Jaehyun leans forward, arms spread on the counter so that Taeyong's trapped between his arms and Jaehyun's scent coats every inch of him. He's warm, and the smell emanating from his expensive suit is rich and heady as it wraps around the tendrils of his being. Taeyong's fingers tense around his drink because the way Jaehyun stares down at him with such intensity — such inviting darkness swirling in his eyes — makes him feel like he's the sole object of Jaehyun's affections. The trick has always been in the eyes, and Jaehyun's got it.

Jaehyun's eyes fall over Taeyong intentionally, starting at his eyes, drifting to nose, and finally, his lips, where it stops and he stares. It shows Taeyong that it's time to make his move. He's already reeled him in — caught him with that needle like hook and yanked the ropes so that Jaehyun's the one falling at his feet. Now, all that's left is to claim him. Hook, line, and sinker. Taeyong makes a show of biting his bottom lip as he pretends to think, watching as Jaehyun follows the action with dark eyes. And then, he reaches the final conclusion.

His gaze stays on Jaehyun, but his eyes cast a sideways glance towards the door. It's quick and nearly imperceptible, but with the way Jaehyun watches him so attentively, Taeyong knows he caught it. Taeyong pauses, acutely aware that time is ticking, but Jaehyun's made it almost too easy.

"I'll make you remember," he says, licking over his lips. Jaehyun is fascinated. "I can think of a way to make sure I'll be someone you'll never forget."

Taeyong's hands tug the tie wrapped around Jaehyun's neck, and Jaehyun's hot lips graze his ear as they stumble into the penthouse room of the hotel. The party is in full swing floors below them, but he manages to keep Jaehyun distracted by slipping off his tie, digging his fingers into Jaehyun's broad shoulders, and pulling him into a searing kiss. Jaehyun's all over him as the door shuts behind them, licking into Taeyong's warm mouth and pressing their tongues together.

Jaehyun pushes him further into the room and lifts up his dress shirt to run his palms along the expanse of Taeyong's sculpted abdomen. Taeyong tries to regain control by adding more force into the kiss, like gasoline to a fire with the way Jaehyun ignites something fiery and ferocious inside of him. Jaehyun's wicked ministrations on his mouth and body makes him feel like he's been turned to coal and then withered to ashes. Taeyong's palms move from Jaehyun's shoulders to press against his chest, and he manoeuvres them so that when he pushes, Jaehyun releases him and falls back onto the bed.

From this angle, he towers above Jaehyun and can get a real good look at the man who'd virtually come undone in his very hands. There's a scorching heat in Jaehyun's eyes, one that mirrors the redness of his lips, and he grasps the silk sheets, twisting them in his hands.

"What are you doing?" Jaehyun questions, voice rough, and Taeyong can tell he's biting back from using harsher words. He's probably never had the power stripped from him like this. He's probably never lost control and let his conquests take the reign. Demoralising. Emasculating. Taeyong plans to strip him down to his bare bones.

Taeyong pauses, as if to think. "I'm sorry... I like doing things a certain _way._ "

Taeyong leans in and places his hands by Jaehyun's sides. The roles have been reversed, and Jaehyun's trapped. Like a spectacle, Taeyong watches him, moving forward with his knees on the bed as Jaehyun unconsciously shifts back until he's pressed against the golden railing headboard. Taeyong dips his head so that he mouths Jaehyun's clothed crotch, feeling how it twitches in his slacks. His hands smooth over Jaehyun's pants and travel up his abdomen, unbuttoning his shirt so that he can mouth Jaehyun's hot skin instead — tongue tracing the v-line dip. Jaehyun is quiet, but his chest heaves as he watches Taeyong's tongue do its work.

Taeyong raises his head, pupils blown out in a way that makes him out to be virtuous. "I hope you don't mind if I take the lead... Just for you."

Jaehyun's eyes dart to the door, and for a moment, Taeyong thinks he's made a mistake. But then, his gaze is pulled back to Taeyong, like he's gravity itself, and his eyes darken.

"I have a speech in an hour, so as long as we hurry this up—"

"Don't worry," Taeyong cuts in, tilting his head. "I'll make every single second worthwhile."

He presses his cool hands to Jaehyun's bare chest, feeling it scorch his palms. And before Jaehyun can get in another word, Taeyong picks up his discarded tie and pulls Jaehyun's hands to his back, where he ties them together between one of the railings. Jaehyun surprisingly lets him without struggle or protests, and Taeyong guesses it's not his first time taking part in less than vanilla endeavours. He tightens the knot as Jaehyun flexes his fingers, and when he pulls back, a feeling of fulfilment spurs through him.

 _Perfect,_ he thinks. _Absolutely perfect._

Jaehyun cocks a brow — a silent but telling way to say _well?_ Taeyong gets it. He surges forward until their lips crash and meet in another powerful kiss. But this time, he feels as if Jaehyun relents — he feels as if Jaehyun _wants_ him to take, take, and take, until he can't anymore. He feels as if maybe Jaehyun _enjoys_ the power ripped away from him in a way that forces him to submit. Jaehyun's mouth attacks him, pulling, biting, and sucking on his lower lip so hard that it threatens to break skin, and Taeyong's hands fly to the buckle of Jaehyun's pants where he slides them off, breaking the kiss to take them off completely. Jaehyun's gone commando, and Taeyong guesses he expected to have someone in his bed by the end of the night.

_Oh, how the world works._

Ten tells him to hurry up in his ear, and it almost takes him out of the moment, but he forces himself to focus. He almost got lost in it, and both him and Ten knew it. Somehow, he'd always got swept up in the hurricane that was Jung Jaehyun. He blinks and he's back.

Jaehyun's hips buck upwards, and there's an edge of desperation to his voice. "Suck it."

Taeyong's smile is almost sadistic. "I would if you asked nicely." He's straddling him, hands traversing up Jaehyun's thigh, where they stop at the apex, cup his balls, and _squeeze._ "But I don't think you've earned it."

"Earned—"

Taeyong squeezes harder, and Jaehyun's mouth shuts with a grunt that borders on a moan. He keeps eye contact with Jaehyun, whose eyes are growing darker by the minute, and traces the vein on the underside of Jaehyun's cock with his thumb. When he reaches the head, he thumbs it, allowing sticky precum to coat the tips of his fingers. Jaehyun's lips part, and he throws his head back with a silent gasp. His stomach keeps flexing, and his cock swells in Taeyong's palm. He's trying to hold on to his pride — what little he has left of it — but then his hips stutter when Taeyong's thumb presses into the slit, and he lets out an unabashed moan.

It's fulfilling to simply watch, Taeyong thinks. He was going to let Jaehyun fuck his throat as a final farewell, but he's so sensitive that Taeyong rather see him come apart using his hands.

"Like this?" Taeyong says with a teasing lilt to his voice, thumb pressing down harder on the narrow slit. Jaehyun's jolts, a visible shiver running down his spine as Taeyong continues to work his hands.

"Y-yeah," Jaehyun affirms. "Like that."

Jaehyun's hips stutter when Taeyong wraps a hand around his length and jerks it. It's a combination of both a jerk and a twist, up and down Jaehyun's sensitive length, the tips of Taeyong's slender fingers barely grazing each other around Jaehyun's girth. And just like that, Jaehyun gives up. One of Taeyong's hands cup his balls, the other stimulating his cock, with Jaehyun writhing and letting wanton moans fall from the cusps of his lips. They're deep and sultry, and they make Taeyong twitch in the confines of his pants, biting his bottom lip while he watches Jaehyun reach his peak.

Jaehyun's gloss over when Taeyong does too much and goes too hard all at once. His stomach caves and tightens, and his hips buck into Taeyong's hands, chasing his incoming release. Jaehyun's jaw slackens and mouth falls open, as if he can already taste it, and he's no longer paying attention to Taeyong, but the feeling Taeyong gives him. It's a shame, Taeyong thinks, as Jaehyun's thighs tremble when he comes, sticky, warm fluid coating Taeyong's hands. It's a shame because a body like Jaehyun's needs a little more time for worship.

But the time's up for him, and he grabs his chance while he can. He wipes his stained hands on the sheets before Jaehyun can grasp his reality, and Taeyong takes advantage of the time it takes for the haze to clear. Without a word, he gets off the bed and moves to crouch down in front of the drawer beside the bed. He wrenches the first back and finds it empty. The second is too. And so is the third. Frustration bubble in his gut — frustration mixed in with deep rooted arousal for the fact that he didn't get his part of the fill.

Taeyong whips his head around and scans the room for any other chest of drawers. There's one by the door, and when he stands and walks towards it, Jaehyun finally speaks.

"T-Taeyong?" He sounds disoriented, and there's an odd undertone of neediness to his voice. Taeyong ignores him, rummaging through the filled drawers but coming up with nothing substantial. "Taeyong," he repeats, and Taeyong can hear him shift on the bed, now regaining his senses. "What are you doing?"

Taeyong's brows crease as he gets to the second drawer and still isn't able to find what he came to gala for in the first place. Behind him, Jaehyun grows increasingly desperate and agitated, and he begins to tug on his restraints. Jaehyun can't believe he hadn't realised it before — Taeyong had purposefully left him immobilised.

Taeyong's knees crack as he bends to go through the third drawer, his lungs squeezing in fear that Jaehyun isn't the one who has what he’s looking for. There's always the chance that Ten had given him the wrong intel. If Jaehyun struggles on the bed, half naked and cold, it falls upon deaf ears.

"Let me out of these _now,_ " Jaehyun commands. "Let me fucking go."

Taeyong snorts, not bothering to look back at him. "I didn't think a refined man like you took to cursing. A little classless, don't you think?"

"Classle— Are you fucking— Are _you kidding me—_ "

A weight dissolves from Taeyong's shoulders as he puts in a hand and pries out a thin stack of documents. He stands, feeling his chest swell in elation as he sifts through them. Mr Lee is signed on all of them in obnoxiously neat, cursive handwriting, and Taeyong speaks into the receiver to let Ten know.

"Found it." His pupils dilate. It's like striking gold.

"Found what?" Jaehyun says, teeth grinding, but there's an edge of panic to his voice that doesn't go unnoticed.

Taeyong spins around and raises a brow, like he's just realised Jaehyun was there. He skims over Jaehyun's exposed figure, and his lips coil upwards into a smile. He supposes he can spare some time. He strides over to Jaehyun and holds up the piece of paper he'd retrieved. At once, the look on Jaehyun's face shifts, and colour drains from his cheeks when it dawns on him what it is. Taeyong crouches a little so that they're face to face, and his fingers itch with the urgent need to touch. He's satisfied, however, because as he sees it, it was a fair exchange. Though, fairness has never been his forte. 

Taeyong crooks his head. "Recognise this?"

"Those documents belong to my father," Jaehyun answers without missing a beat, eyes glued to the flimsy pieces of paper. Jaehyun sounds as if he's holding himself back from snapping — his string of patience wearing thin. When he looks back at Taeyong, there's a whirlwind of fury in his eyes. "Return them at once. They're needed for this evening." 

Taeyong lowers the paper down and lifts his free hand to cradle Jaehyun's cheek. He can feel Jaehyun's jaw clench under his hand as his fingers carve holes into the flesh. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Jaehyun's dick twitch.

"I would," Taeyong whispers. "But it's out of my hands. You understand that, right? Don't take it so personally."

He grazes his thumb over the ridge of Jaehyun's cheek, and he lifts his chin and leans in until their lips meet and he's kissing him languidly, as if trying to commit Jaehyun to memory. When he closes his eyes, he can still see Jaehyun's face with a look of blissfulness kissing his features, and there's still a ringing in his ears that resembles Jaehyun's moans. Something in his stomach twists when he pulls away. The feeling is familiar, and he supposes it's one of regret or maybe the want for it to have been a different day, month, or year. He takes in Jaehyun's angered features one last time before he reels and stands straight. It's over.

Jaehyun knows it too. He knows that there's nothing left but the bones that held his skinned off pride because he's quiet as he watches Taeyong fix his dress shirt and slip on his suit jacket and shoes. There's an odd feeling of satisfaction buzzing in Taeyong's veins as he prepares to leave, one that he always feels when dealing with excessively rich and powerful men like Jung Jaehyun, though it doesn't run as deep as it usually does. He chances Jaehyun another side look and walks over to cover him up with his trousers so that he looks halfway decent for whoever finds him.

At the door, Taeyong stops and pauses to turn around again. It's as if he's leaving a lover with the knowledge that there will be no return. But it feels like more than that. It feels like _victory._

"If it's any consolation," he begins, rolling his wrist in a vague gesture. "You would've been a really good fuck."

The door shuts just as Jaehyun lets out a resounding growl. Taeyong simply smiles.

Taeyong sits at the bar of the club in shadowed seclusion, stirring his drink and eyes fixed upon the man sitting in the VIP section of the lounge. His targets are always the same at such places; proud men with two arms slipped around the waists of pretty men and women, their legs spread in an obnoxious display of power. It is never enough for them to have one, never two, even three. They want what is untouchable to them, and Taeyong has always had a way of traipsing out of their fingers in a way that makes sure they never really touch him at all. And that, in itself, is only half of the fun.

Ten gives him the order, and Taeyong steels himself and puts on his perfected, hollow smile before he rises from his seat. It'll take him approximately ten seconds to walk to the toilet and then approximately a minute and a half for his target to follow — if the way the man drinks him in with hungry eyes as he stands is anything to go by. The shirt Taeyong wears dips at the collar, unbuttoned from top his midsection to show a teasing sliver of skin, luminescent under the glowing lights of the club.

He rolls his head and rubs a hands around his exposed neck tiredly, locking eyes with the man as he walks by him. And then, his look switches to a smile when he enters his destination.

Inside the bathroom, he waits. He takes the time to admire himself in the mirror too. Yuta had taken his time with him today because Taeyong's sure he's never seen such shimmer on his eyes. His skin is gold with a slick sheen of sweat, but it's not the sort of perspiration he wants to wipe off — it's purposefully intended. His fingers grip around the edge of the sink as he inclines to inspect himself, lips drawn into a pout. And then, he sees something in the corner of his eyes. It makes no sound, and it's fleeting, almost as if it was never there, but his instincts force him to still. His hands come down to his back pocket where he's hidden a knife, and he shuts his eyes and counts from five.

_Four..._

_Three..._

_Two..._

Taeyong doesn't make it to one before he spins, and just in time, a hand clamps down on his shoulder. Before he can stop to think, a cloth is placed over his mouth and eyes, and the sheer force of the shock that seizes his body causes him to inhale. His rational mind knows that it's a mistake before he even does it, but it's too late, and he can't escape from the large hands pressing him down. His chest compresses with the urgent need to breathe, but soon that urgency fades into something more static and grainy, and the grip of his hands around the sink loosens.

His mind loses control, and suddenly, he’s weightless.

There's an odd feeling that comes when you think you've taken your last breath. And there's an even weirder feeling that comes after your eyes shoot open and you realise that it was never your last breath at all. Sleep, Taeyong thinks. It's the only time when reality gets away from him, and it explains the feeling of lost time in his mind. He tugs on his hands, veins drumming with a fleeting feeling of panic that he swallows down like bile. It doesn't come as a surprise that there are ropes tying his hands back on the chair he's sitting on.

A shiver zaps down his spine when the mist clears over his eyes and he takes in his surroundings. His eyes fall on a door facing him and then it jumps to a chest of drawers, a painting on the wall, and a window that had been left ajar across the room. He recognises it — being in a hotel room always has a certain aura that surrounds it. But it's not the hotel room he was supposed to be in with his target, and it's not any hotel room he’s seen before, either. The cogs of his mind turn painfully until it _clicks._

"Jaehyun," he grits.

And it's as if Jaehyun had been waiting for him, because as soon as he comes to the daunting realisation, the door swings open and Taeyong's eyes flicker to the culprit. His heart ricochets in his chest, but he forces his bones to still and schools his expression into something stoic. Though, when Jaehyun's lips pull into a smile, Taeyong knows that Jaehyun sees the obvious anger flickering in his eyes. It's not his first being in attempted kidnap like this — but that's all they've ever been; _an attempt._ Nobody's ever gotten as far as Jaehyun has, and he doesn't want to admit to himself that he's been off his game since his last encounter with Jaehyun weeks ago. If there's anyone else who noticed, nobody had bothered to comment on it.

Jaehyun closes the door and steps inside, the air growing dense with so much tension that Taeyong finds it hard to breathe. Or maybe that's just because of the weight of Jaehyun's eyes on him. There's a dark, indescribable glint in Jaehyun's eyes, and Taeyong realises that maybe he shouldn't have underestimated Jaehyun all that while ago. Men with crushed pride can be dangerous things. But even with that thought, Taeyong isn't scared. The way Jaehyun circles him isn't enough to warrant anything but a mild threat. But he knows he's in too much of a precarious position to test it — for now, at least.

"Your earpiece is gone," Jaehyun starts, but it isn't information he doesn't already know. From the moment he'd opened his eyes and felt the loss of metal in his ears, he knew that someone must've taken it. "It's an impressive piece of equipment," he continues.

Jaehyun stops behind him so that Taeyong can't see him as he speaks. Instead, his voice echoes around the empty room.

"Lee Taeyong," Jaehyun drawls. "I had your name... and yet, I still couldn't find you. How did you manage to do that?"

A hand grazing his shoulder causes Taeyong to freeze, but just as quickly, he relaxes. Jaehyun's hand is gone, and he steps around the chair Taeyong's tied to so that he's in front of him. The roles have been reversed for a second time, and now Jaehyun towers above him. Jaehyun's stare is hard and it threatens to make him crumble, but he steadies himself under such dissecting eyes. He gives Jaehyun, too, a look of his own — one that screamed of boredom.

But it was the complete opposite of what he felt inside, heart rabbiting against his sternum, but to let Jaehyun believe he truly had the upper hand would be like sealing that final stamp on his own grave. And if he lost control, that'd be it.

"What is it that you want?" Taeyong asks, attempting to keep the bite of annoyance in his voice at bay. It fails. "An apology? You kidnapped me to apologise?"

Jaehyun smiles, and the white of his teeth glints, blinding.

"I didn't kidnap you. My men did. I'm not _classless,_ " Jaehyun corrects, throwing Taeyong's words back at him. The memory of their time together resurfaces, and Taeyong struggles not to scoff. But in the end, it comes out regardless. Jaehyun's smile drops. "I need you to tell me who ordered you to retrieve the documents."

He pauses, eyes taking in Taeyong's form from head to toe. "You don't seem like the type to need them."

Taeyong settles on not being insulted. "The documents are gone. You know better than anyone that you'll never get them back."

"I know," Jaehyun answers without missing a beat, and he raises an arm to fix his cufflinks. "I've already been embarrassed by the maid who found me half naked and then by my father. There's no _getting back._ What's been done is done."

Taeyong cocks his head and lifts a brow. "So then, what is this about? Your pride? Because you were embarrassed?"

Jaehyun's eyes thin out, narrowing at him. And Taeyong feels as if he's grasping for invisible threads, speaking to Jaehyun like this. It's like hitting a dead end, although in the form of his career. But Taeyong has always been good improvising. He's always been good at slipping through the cracks that nobody else sees. He would never have made it this far if he couldn't. Plus, the way Jaehyun's jaw ticks tells him that he might just have found a weak spot. He decides to push through even if the roof may crumble overhead.

"You know what I think," Taeyong says, his voice edging on to a forced tease. "I think you're unsatisfied. Is it because you couldn't complete the chase? Because you didn't get your fill? You must've been dreaming of me. Tell me, Jung, did I really haunt you even in your sleep?"

When Jaehyun's nostrils flare and his eye twitches, Taeyong knows he's hit the nail on the head. He's close, and the victory of their exchange sits on his tongue like liquid gold. Jaehyun must have brought him here under the guise of punishment, but Taeyong can see past him — see _through him._ No. Jaehyun hasn't brought him here to hurt him, even if that's what he's convinced himself this is for. Beneath the layers of crushed self-glorification, Taeyong can make out the way Jaehyun craves for him. In it's the irresistible pull of his eyes, the way his gaze lands on Taeyong's lips, and the Jaehyun's hands clench, as if deciding whether or not to touch him. Taeyong's the one tied down, but right now it feels like they've switched positions.

Taeyong's lips curve upwards, and he leans in, as if attempting to whisper in the deafening silence. "I think you want me to fuck you," he says, enunciating each word.

Something flashes in Jaehyun's eyes too quick for Taeyong to catch it.

"That is it, isn't it?" Taeyong continues.

It's like they've come full circle — back to the beginning — and suddenly, the rope tethered around his wrists feel lacklustre. He takes Jaehyun's silence as confirmation and tugs on his wrists behind the chair, and his fingers come up to slip through the knot. Within a moment, he's freed himself and is standing on his feet. Jaehyun's frame is heaving — and there's a hot red splaying itself from his neck to his cheeks, caught between anger and embarrassment. But somehow, Taeyong feels that it's neither. He falters, as the air crackles between them, and looks down at his wrists. They're barely red. There isn't a scratch on him.

"You didn't tie me up for an apology," Taeyong begins, inspecting his hands. It isn't a question; It's a statement. "You don't care for my boss or your father's documents..."

He looks back up at Jaehyun, who has yet to speak, and treads towards him with deliberate steps. The corner of Jaehyun's lip twitches, and Taeyong feels his veins thrum with excitement at every movement forward he takes. The fact that Jaehyun is silent, nothing but a now doused fire in his eyes, spurs Taeyong on. Taeyong presses a hand to Jaehyun's chest until he's backed up to the wall, and then he rises on the tips of his toes to lock eyes with him. He searches Jaehyun's face, eyes capering around his soft but rigid features, and the feeling of longing comes back to him again. He'd wanted Jaehyun pliant in his hands back then, and now he's got him.

"Admit it," he murmurs, one hand still pressing Jaehyun back into the wall and the other coming up to stroke his ticking jaw. "You want me."

He dips his head to Jaehyun's clavicle, nosing up from his throat to his maxilla. He feels the way Jaehyun's chest caves under his fingertips as he does so, and Jaehyun's lips part beside his ear to let out an almost noiseless breath. It's exhilarating — how a man so large and so powerful crumples beneath him. Something thick and warm swirls in Taeyong's gut, and his hands roam the expanse of Jaehyun's chest. But he wants more. He needs to _touch._ Skin to skin. Jaehyun above him. Jaehyun beneath him. Every position.

It's as if they've been dancing around the same end goal from the moment they met. And whatever had been Jaehyun holding Jaehyun down must come crashing down at his feet because he opens his mouth and speaks the truth they both know he's been holding.

"I do," he confesses, voice raspy. "Since I set eyes on you— since that day weeks ago. I close my eyes and you're there—"

Taeyong pulls back from Jaehyun's neck and cuts him off with a kiss. The tension in his body unfurls as he gives into his uninhibited desire that's dressed in a fine suit and sporting slicked back hair. Taeyong's hands tangle in the strands as Jaehyun licks into his mouth hungrily, and they rake through so harshly that they tug. It's a way to get Jaehyun to stand down — to lessen his force in the kiss. And it works. Jaehyun's still kissing him, but it's lower in strength now. He's handing over the power, and it leaves them on less than equal footing. But Taeyong supposes that's what Jaehyun has wanted the entire time.

Taeyong detaches from his lips just before Jaehyun can unravel completely. Jaehyun chases the kiss, but Taeyong keeps him back with steady hands.

"Strip," Taeyong commands.

There's a pause, and for a moment, Taeyong thinks Jaehyun's second guessing the entire endeavour, but then Jaehyun's lips thin out and he unbuckles his belt. Taeyong almost laughs, though the tension in the air stops the noise from coming out. He smirks silently, taking off each article of clothing less quickly than Jaehyun had, and fishes out the condom from his slacks. It was meant to be for his other target, and that thought reminds him that he doesn't have much time before Ten comes looking for him. He quickens his pace and tears the plastic off with his teeth. Before he can roll it on, however, a hand captures his wrist. Jaehyun spins him around, and in a flash, they're chest to chest.

Jaehyun glowers at him with storms in his eyes, and it's like the final bridge they need to cross before taking the next step. They're flush like this — pressed chest to chest — and this is exact contact Taeyong had craved. He can feel Jaehyun's lower half pressed up against his thigh, long and girthy, and it makes lust burn under his heated skin. They have an unspoken war with their eyes, and Taeyong can't tell what it is exactly that Jaehyun wants. For him to fuck him raw? Or for Jaehyun to be the one doing the fucking? It doesn't matter which it is, he decides. In the end, it's all a means of gratification.

"Next time," Taeyong tells him.

The lie is simple, easy, and it slips from his mouth like silk. Whether Jaehyun believes it or not is another thing, and the look in Jaehyun's eyes tells him nothing, but it's enough to make him concede. On the bed, Taeyong climbs over Jaehyun and rolls the condom on, stopping to lift a brow at Jaehyun's terse expression. He's tense — Taeyong can tell from the way his hands grip the sheet and the muscles in his arms tighten. He chuckles at the thought of what's coming. Soon, he plans to pull Jaehyun apart limb from limb until he's deadweight.

He gets it now. The chase is intoxicating — that and the way he has Jaehyun putty in his hands.

Taeyong lifts a brow, pausing to ask, "Lube?"

Jaehyun grunts. "Second drawer beside the bed."

Taeyong's lean body curves over him to reach for it, and in the short time it takes, he admires the difference in their figures. He's all lean muscle, lithe figure, easy to bend and trapeze. But Jaehyun's hard to miss. From the broad expanse of his shoulders, the carved out muscle of his abdomen, and the swoleness of his thighs, it's enough to intimidate. He's large and domineering, and the look in his eyes is enough for most people to stand down. But Taeyong's not most people. Most people wouldn't dare to take the bite that he does, like Jaehyun's a hanging carcass.

He pulls back with the lube in hand and squeezes a dollop of the cold liquid on his fingers. It's dense and sticky, and he has to rub it between his thumb and index fingers to warm it up. Jaehyun's gaze is on him all the while — watching, waiting, _anticipating._ It's what he's been thinking about, Taeyong thinks. What he's been dreaming of. It's a fantasy of his, too, and satisfaction spreads in his chest like vines as he pries Jaehyun's legs apart to put the first finger in. They lock eyes, and the need for permission goes unsaid.

Taeyong's free hand clamps around Jaehyun's muscled thigh as he places his first finger into Jaehyun's dry heat. Then his second. Then his third — until he's scissoring Jaehyun open, and Jaehyun releases what ever tension's built up inside of him. Jaehyun's so tight, he could almost moan. And so, he does. He's not even in yet, but he throws his head back and lets out a groan. The action of fucking Jaehyun open with his hands is teasing almost, and Taeyong has always been one to enjoy the build. His fingers brush what must be the prostate because Jaehyun's hips roll upwards.

"F-Fuck," Jaehyun says, and then his thighs clench when Taeyong adds more pressure. "K-Kiss me."

It hits him that he hasn't touched Jaehyun enough, much less his lips, and once given a reminder, Taeyong pounces on him. His head dives to Jaehyun's leaking cock and tongues the tip, surprised by how sensitive it is, like the first time, when it pulses under his tongue. He swiftly moves to the part of Jaehyun he'd planned to worship — beginning at the abdomen. He kisses Jaehyun's happy trail and then dots kisses in between the grooves of his abs, one hand still fucking into Jaehyun's ass and the other scratching up and down Jaehyun's side with blunt nails.

Taeyong then licks a stripe up Jaehyun's sternum, where he stops at his chest and suckles on it. Jaehyun's too far gone to register that he let out a _whine._

"Like this?" Taeyong asks, mouth coming off from Jaehyun's chest with a wet pop and lifting his head to meet gazes with Jaehyun, his eyes lidded over.

"More... On the mouth," Jaehyun answers. His voice is on the verge of begging. "Kiss me, _please._ "

Taeyong decides he's seen Jaehyun's crumbling resolve enough and gives in. Jaehyun pushes himself up by the elbow for a better angle, and Taeyong wraps a hand around Jaehyun's nape to draw him in. He shoves a fourth finger into Jaehyun's hole without warning as they kiss and feels the way Jaehyun's mouth falls out in reprieve. The bed shakes as Jaehyun's body jolts under the effect of Taeyong's fingers, and Taeyong revels in the thrum of blood rushing in his veins. His heart slams up against his chest at the sound of Jaehyun's whimpers, and it encourages him to fuck him open faster.

"I'm gonna come," Jaehyun rasps against his mouth, and Taeyong knows it’s true from the way Jaehyun's kisses have continuously been losing their power.

Taeyong pulls away a little to nibble on Jaehyun's bottom lip. "You don't come unless I say so."

He removes himself from Jaehyun entirely to take in the sight of Jaehyun's weeping cock. His eyes flicker back to Jaehyun's face and his dazed out expression that shows he's been milked far too much already. Taeyong decides he's punished Jaehyun with his fingers enough and pulls out with a loud and obscene squelch. Jaehyun's desperate moans stimulate him further, and in the blink of an eye, he positions himself squarely between Jaehyun's hips. Jaehyun's elbows give out with a tired cry, and Taeyong forces him to lift his hips with fingers forcefully digging themselves into the flesh of Jaehyun's thighs.

He bends a bit and stretches globes of Jaehyun's ass so that he's at eye level with the puckered rim. His tongue swipes his bottom lip with the urgent need to taste it, but he's forced to reel himself back in.

 _Another time,_ Taeyong thinks. And now, he's not so sure if it's a lie.

Throwing that thought out of the open window of his mind, he allows the haze of lust to take over and control his mind. The desire curling in the pit of his guts fuels his next actions, and he positions himself at the entrance of Jaehyun's hole. Jaehyun's hands scrabble for purchase as Taeyong slides in the tip, head thrown back and cock aching painfully with want. Jaehyun wiggles his hips needily for Taeyong to push in, but Taeyong's head snaps back towards him and he slaps a hand on Jaehyun's ass, painting it red. Jaehyun's back arches at the sting, and he lets out a hiss.

"Wait," Taeyong grits, but it's empty words.

He feels like if he doesn't have Jaehyun around him completely right now, he'll go crazy with want. He doesn't spare another second and gives them what they both itch for, slipping into Jaehyun until he bottoms out, his body curved over him. The feeling is euphoric, but it's not enough to dull the throbbing of his cock. For a brief second, he feels an odd sense of intimacy — being so close yet so far like this. Then his mind loses its grip on reality as he pulls out and slams back in with one powerful thrust.

 _"Fuck,"_ Jaehyun moans, and Taeyong joins him.

Pleasure spreads through his body like wildfire as he fucks into Jaehyun who babbles beneath him. Taeyong's muscles flex, and he adds more power — pistoning his hips to get the right angle that has Jaehyun and himself crying out in mind numbing pleasure. One of his hands grips Jaehyun's thigh, and the other is placed firmly against Jaehyun's taut abdomen, fingers burying themselves into skin in an attempt to find something to hold on to. Lust boils in Taeyong bones and spills over as he starts fucking into Jaehyun, hard and fast.

Jaehyun's face is but a blurry mirage underneath him, but he tries to focus on Jaehyun's lewd expression and wanton moans, despite the loud creak of the bed. Jaehyun swallows him so well that he feels desperate. He wants this again and again. He wants Jaehyun under his skin, in his hands, wet and warm, like putty. He closes his eyes, body shuddering, and he finds he can make out the way Jaehyun's body jolts behind his eyelids clearly. The vision is enough to have him feeling as if he's reached his peak.

"I'm going to come," Jaehyun says, voice wrecked.

Taeyong opens his eyes to look at him, rubbing a hand over the sheen of sweat on Jaehyun skin. Jaehyun's cock dribbles angrily, and his thighs quiver to show Taeyong that he's close. Taeyong can't hold it back any longer, either. It's coming at him before he can even think to grasp it, and the pace of his shallow thrust becomes sporadic. But he grits his teeth and holds back for Jaehyun.

"Do it," Taeyong tells him first, fucking into Jaehyun almost frantically, "come for me." And that's all it takes.

Jaehyun's toes curl into the sheets, and a moan unfurls from the bottom of his chest to fill the room. Now that Jaehyun's had his release, coming untouched with his cock spurting thick, white ribbons, Taeyong allows himself to be brought to ruins. He can almost taste the ecstasy on the tip of his tongue as he fucks into Jaehyun like a rabid man chasing liberation. It sweeps through him at full force, and his body shakes as he comes. It's endless but relieving — sending tingles from his buzzing mind to the head of his cock as he drags the shaft against Jaehyun's wet walls one last time.

When he comes down from the irreplaceable high, his limbs feel detached. He wills lost the feelings of solidity to return to his bones and blinks to clear his eyes. Jaehyun's beneath him, but his eyes are shut. He's passed out.

Taeyong's head falls in relief, and his cock gives one last lifeless cry.

Jaehyun stirs when a cool breeze brushes over his skin, like a gentle reminder the day has come. The skin and bones holding him up are drenched in exhaustion, so it takes time for him to even open his eyes, not to talk of lifting a finger. But eventually, he does — though not because he wants to, but because there's a ringing in his head that draws his hazy mind to quick alert. When he opens his eyes, he feels something prickle in his stomach, heavy and bitter, but it's an emotion he can't even begin to place.

Suddenly, the memories flood back to him. Meeting Taeyong months ago. The sleepless nights that followed suit. The wild dreams and vivid imaginations. And then Taeyong tied to a chair. Taeyong above him. Taeyong _in him._

It's like a slap to the face.

With the puzzle of his mind now pieced back together, he rips off the duvet covering his lower half and stands from the bed. His head whips around the room for any sign of Taeyong, but he finds nothing. It's empty all around. His eyes dart to the suite's bathroom door and he rushes to open it, but it's empty. And suddenly, an unfamiliar feeling of panic courses through him. The feeling multiplies ten fold within seconds, and he practically flies to the room door. He had locked it when he came in. He knows it. He's sure of it. And when his hand comes down to pull on the handle, it truly doesn't budge.

His heart thunders in his chest, and blood pounds in his ears when his head whips around the room again and sees nothing there. There's no sign of life. And Taeyong's clothes aren't there, either. Despite Jaehyun’s dizzy and sickly haste, his eyes manage to catch the sight of the slightly ajar window. His eyes widen and his jaw slacks, but he refuses to believe it. No. It's not possible. And he confirms it by striding over to the window, pushing it open, and looking down. Something akin to trepidation rolls in his stomach. It's too far a drop. An escape like that would be impossible.

But then his hands grip the windowsill, and in the process, he touches something dry and thin, like paper. Jaehyun picks up the yellow sticky note and reads over it, chest tightening. His teeth dig so deep and so hard into his bottom that it breaks skin. Jaehyun crumples the paper in his hands and slams down a fist on the windowsill, letting out a roar. Lee Taeyong had only given him three words.

_Come find me._

**Author's Note:**

> what do i have to say for myself... <3  
> [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/starhoneyy)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.qa/starhoneyyy)


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